MURAKAMI - 1Q84
“Just like that?” Tengo muttered, as if to himself.
“Look,” Komatsu said, picking up a spoon and pointing it at Tengo the way a conductor uses his baton to single out a soloist from the rest of the orchestra.
MURAKAMI - 1Q84
“…You, on the other hand, know how to write.
Your story lines are good. You have taste. You may be built like a lumberjack, but you write with intelligence and sensitivity. And real power.
Unlike Fuka-Eri, though, you still haven’t grasped exactly what it is you want to write about. Which is why a lot of your stories are missing something at the core. I know you’ve got something inside you that you need to write about, but you can’t get it to come out. It’s like a frightened little animal hiding way back in a cave - you know it’s in there, but there’s no way to catch it until it comes out. Which is why I keep telling you, just give it time.”
MURAKAMI - 1Q84
Tengo let his lips part as he stared at Komatsu. Komatsu put his spoon back in his saucer. It made an abnormally loud sound. “Supposing the story wins the Akutagawa Prize, then what?” Tengo asked, recovering from the shock.
MURAKAMI - 1Q84
“Never mind the money” Tengo said, his voice flat. “How about your professional ethics as an editor? If the scheme became public, it’d cause an uproar. You’d lose your job.”
MURAKAMI - 1Q84
It did not sound like all that much fun to Tengo. For one thing, he had never actually seen this “literary world.” And when he realized that a competent individual like Komatsu had such childish motives for crossing such a dangerous bridge, he was momentarily at a loss for words.
